


That’s Amore

by Sterekschub



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asshole OC - Freeform, Chubby Derek Hale, Food Issues, M/M, Matchmaker Talia, Mutual Gaining, Romance, Weight Gain, more to come - Freeform, valentines day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 10:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sterekschub/pseuds/Sterekschub
Summary: Another Discord/Tumblr chubby prompt ventureStiles sucks at communicating. Derek sucks at dieting. They both suck at love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chubby!kink-for-all](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chubby%21kink-for-all).



> I sort of suck at prompts and make them way too long, but here it goes.
> 
> -meet cute  
> -one person is already taken

“Alright, that is it!”

Stiles blinks at the briefcase that falls on the table. The impact jostles his drink and he watches the liquid as he sucks pasta from his teeth. He looks up to do his daily check—stormy blue eyes and a pissy scowl—aka, angry boyfriend. Always a fantastic way to start the evening, “Something wrong?” he probes.

“That damn cat!” Nick raises his hands with the words.

“Cat?” Stiles questions the blonde man, “What cat?”

“The one that’s been on the porch every day this week. Damn thing just looks at me and it makes my skin crawl.”

Stiles doesn’t see the need for such anger, “Did it attack you or something?”

It’s said slowly and with exasperation, “Stiles, you know I can’t stand those things.” And by things he means almost all living creatures. Dogs, cats, birds, you name it. Nick loosens his tie, throws open the refrigerator and groans. ”Babe, what is all this crap?”

“Food,” Stiles swallows another bite.

“Food?” He snorts. “This is trans fats, carbs and,” Nick reaches for something and scoffs, “this isn’t even non GMO.”

“It looked good and I grabbed it,” Stiles shrugs.

Blue eyes turn to him, “And what the hell are you eating?”

“Ravioli,” Stiles chews.

“That’s an extra thirty minutes on the treadmill.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles knows, and he doesn’t really care. He’d been craving it for days.

“And is that a soda?” Nick grabs at his glass and looks like he wants to chuck it across the room.

“It’s my cheat day,” Stiles insists, reaching for it. “Now stop being an ass and give it back.”

“Oh, I’m an ass for caring about your health? For wanting to make sure you’re around for our children.”

The refrigerator door slams shut.

“We don’t have children,” Stiles reminds. And with any luck, they never would. He hates two things equal in this world—needles, and kids. No freaking thank you, “And I’m sorry the cat pissed you off, but leave my food out of it.”

“I would have appreciated something being ready for both of us.”

“You usually don’t get off for another two hours,” Stiles retorts.

Nick crosses his arms. Perfectly sculpted from relentless hours at the gym. The kind of arms that still make Stiles swoon, “Which means you snack during the day without me.”

“I—“ Stiles breathes. “You know sometimes I just want to eat without making a federal case of it.”

Nick sucks his teeth and shakes his head, “I’m just looking out for you.”

Something Stiles has learned actually means—making sure he doesn’t have a fat boyfriend. Stiles is maybe twenty pounds more than he was in High School—and most of it is muscle. But Nick obsesses, over food, over a cat on the porch, over basically everything. That added with Stiles’ ADHD, it’s an interesting mix.

“Okay.”

It’s Stiles response to everything anymore. He doesn’t want to fight. Especially not about food. Not again.

A small amount of guilt seems to pass over Nick, as if he realizes he’s a bit out of line, “I didn’t mean—“

“My dad’s coming for a visit this weekend.”

And just like that the apology is gone and Nick is rolling his eyes, “Babe, I told you it’s been a stressful week and I wanted a quiet weekend.”

Stiles looks up at him, tone unwavering, “And I want to see my dad. It’s been five months.”

Nick’s mouth moves back and forth as if he wants to say more, but ultimately doesn’t. “Fine, I just, I guess it doesn’t matter what I think, does it?” The man growls, eyeing the glass of soda as if it had personally offended him.

Noah Stilinski has always been a sore spot in their relationship. Probably due to his strong dislike of Nick and his pushiness in general. His dad had never had a problem with the bisexuality, it was the partners Stiles chose.

Apparently.

“Not really,” Stiles snarks back. He isn’t sure when this started. When the romance had left, burned down to nothing, and it had all turned into great makeup sex keeping them from calling it quits.

Oh, and the fear of being lonely--that too. Not that Stiles didn’t love Nick, he just honestly wasn’t sure he understood him most days. It almost felt like arguments had become their closest form of communication.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you,” Stiles hates that his father coming is such a chore, that it feels like he has to apologize for wanting to spend time with his only family left.

“You can make it up to me right now,” Nick doesn’t look as if he means anything sexual and for a moment, Stiles is confused. “Get rid of that stupid cat and make sure the owner knows to keep it away from our house.”

“How do you know it’s still there?” That and weren’t outdoor cats known to sort of wander around neighborhoods? Stiles isn’t exactly a cat person either, but he doesn’t see the harm in one sitting on their porch.

Nick huffs, “Trust me, it sits there for hours and if you don’t do it...I will.”

Pushing back his chair, Stiles sighs, “Oh my god, fine, fine. I’ll get rid of it. But, this makes us even and no whining about this weekend.” He knows without a doubt Nick will cause a war with the owner’s cat. The man is tall, intimidating and knows how to get what he wants.

(“He’s a jerk.”

Stiles hisses, “Scott--”

Brown eyes glare at him, “You and I both know you could do better.”)

Could he? Stiles wonders. Even Scott, his best friend, didn’t care for Nick so much. He put up a pleasant facade but Stiles wasn’t blind to the eye rolls anytime the man’s back was turned. Nick is good looking. Really good looking. And while he did have a temper, he’d never abused Stiles in any way.

No, Stiles’ mind mocks, He just monitors everything you eat and acts like his job is more important and--

Stiles shakes his head and heads for the door, slamming it closed to make a point.

“Alright let’s see this--”

A fluffy white ball and two giant emerald eyes stop him. Stiles stares. The cat stares back. Grabbing at his shirtsleeve, Stiles exhales.

“Really?”

The cat moves to lick at its paw.

“Oh my god.”

His boyfriend is angry that the cutest cat Stiles has possibly ever seen is hanging around their house?

The cat meows in agreement.

“Alright then, big guy,” Stiles squats down to look at the license around the cat’s collar. He has to push away a lot of fur and when he sees the name, he snorts. “Purrseus, huh? Well, at least your owner has a sense of humor.” It’s not really that funny, but Stiles is very dry on amusement nowadays, and the silly pun sort of tickles him. He takes note of the address, seeing it’s only a street over.

“All right, mighty warrior, let’s get your fluffy butt back where it belongs. Before my other half blows a gasket.” Stiles scoops the cat up, relieved when it not only lets him but also starts purring.

( . )

It's a mystery how much china there seems to be in the box. China Derek Hale is sure he’s never actually seen before.

“Honey, taste this and let me know if it needs more oregano.”

The man huffs, readjusting his shirt for the third time that hour. It keeps riding up no matter what he does, but it’s something he’s grown used. Derek looks back at the woman behind him. The moving boxes are about half unpacked and he’s determined to get them all done tonight, come hell or high water, “I’m sure the seasoning is fine, mom.”

“And what are you still doing here? I thought you had a date tonight?”

“I canceled.”

The dark haired woman frowns, “What happened?”

Derek sighs. He gets the idea he’s supposed to know what happened by the tone in her question, but surprisingly his weight had never come up, nor had it stopped a request for a second date. It was mostly that Katrina Detone couldn’t stop talking about herself. And she’d been boring as dirt, “We just--didn’t hit it off.”

“Well, that’s her loss then.”

Derek shrugs. He’s past caring anymore really. Women--men, neither seemed to excite him anymore. He’d come to the conclusion right after the disastrous evening, “I think I’m just going to lay off dating for a while. I think it’s better I focus on the company for a while.”

Talia, as usual, can see right through him, “Is it, Kate? Please don’t tell me you’re still thinking about her.”

Derek nearly drops the plate in his hand. He can’t stop the thumping in his heart and it makes him scowl. He’s upset that the name still means something and just as upset his mother would bring it up. “The pasta is going to overcook.”

“I swear if I ever get my hands on that woman. Derek, honey, you have to--”

“Mom, the pasta,” Derek tries to hide his irritation, pointing at the container on the burner.

Taila takes the pot off the stove and moves it to the sink to strain it, “I can handle the pasta. And I can handle those dishes, too. Derek, please I know you’re trying to help, but you’ve been at it for hours. I’m not some frail old woman who can’t take care of herself.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

She hums, knowingly, “You don’t say it, you think it.”

“No, I--” Talia raises her brow, much in the same way Derek was known for raising his sometimes. The way that said don’t test me.

Talia grabs his cheek and kisses it gently, “Don’t lie to your mother.”

“I worry about you,” Derek admits.

A warm smile, “I know. And that’s why you’re my favorite son.”

“I refuse to argue that with I am your only son. And it’s not that I think you're frail. But it’s only been three months.”

“I’m surviving, we all are,” Talia scoffs lightly at his frown. “Oh, don’t give me those eyes, I swear sometimes you are just like him.”

Derek knows he shares parts from both his parents, but he’s always felt he favored Talia in most ways.

“And he would be so proud of you for helping me. But honey--”

The sound of the doorbell chiming interrupts her words. The woman turns, looking back out the kitchen curiously, “Wonder who that could be?” Talia moves as if to go answer it, but Derek stops her.

“I’ll get it.”

Talia gives an exasperated smile, “Derek, I can answer my own door.”

“I know,” he replies gruffly, heading towards the door, regardless. His mother hasn’t had a single visitor in the week they’ve been unpacking and moving in. Call it a protective streak or what have you, but it seems odd for someone to come calling in the evening when most people would be eating dinner.

The doorbell sounds again not a minute later and Derek can’t help feeling slightly irked at the apparent impatience of the person behind it. His feet hurry and he knows he can’t look all that pleasant.

Just as he’s sure the person is going to ring yet again, Derek yanks the door open. What should be much more polite hello comes out as rough, “What?” at the unwelcome intrusion.

Big doe eyes widen in alarm. There’s a pause for a few seconds in which Derek stares at the admittedly very attractive man, who appears confused and very nervous. Two arms reach out to present something moving, “I’m sorry I uh, I think this belongs to you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Purrseus had been an amazingly good listener on their short walk. Stiles is sure the animal comes from a good home, with a loving owner. The cat is so polite and well groomed and the house he belongs to seems well groomed too. Stiles rechecks the address to be sure it’s right. He whistles.

“Wow buddy, you got some nice digs.”

A nice yard, small garden, and several bird feeders. It all very domestic and sweet.

“And hey, look a car in the driveway so they must be home,” Stiles looks down at the cat, feeling apologetic. “And just so you know, I’d be happy to have you stay on our porch as much as you like. I just have a crabby boyfriend, is all. And he’s like that with everyone. It’s nothing personal.”

The cat just blinks.

“At least you can get away,” Stiles stops at the words, a sudden sourness in his stomach. “I didn’t mean that,” not really. “I didn’t,” he insists to the animal. With unsurprisingly no response.

The first doorbell ring—nothing. Stiles licks his lips, looks down at Purrseus and shrugs. He tries again, to the same result. His finger hovers over a third try when all the thunder of what feels like a thousand furies causes everything to shake.

How the door doesn’t splinter when it’s flies open, Stiles will never know.

“What?”

It’s a toss-up which is more irritated. The voice or the man attached to it.

“I uh--”

Oh, man are those eyes weapons. Twisted dark brows rise and fall over a scowl unrivaled to any Stiles has ever seen.

“Um-”

Never again would Stiles call Nick the world's biggest sourass, because this guy looked like he’d eaten a whole lemon tree--and then some. Or, Stiles can feel a flush and licks his lips again, he’d definitely eaten a whole lot of--something. The guy is well--wide for one thing. Wide and looking very unhappy. His very ample hip is hitting the doorframe as he stands in an almost defensive way. Looking like he very much wants an explanation.

It’s a shame he looks like he wants to kill him, as Stiles is almost sure with the hazel eyes (that are really so many colors in one) and five o'clock shadow under a perfect nose, and rounded cheeks, he’s possibly the hottest thing Stiles has ever seen. Minus the death glare.

For once in his twenty-five years of life, Stiles Stilinski is completely tongue-tied.

The man raises a brow and before he can further think or say something stupid, Stiles shoves the cat at him, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I uh, I think this belongs to you.” Smooth, he is not and the man merely looks at the cat as if he doesn’t understand, his eyes travel back to Stiles, confused.

Wrong house, everything within Stiles screams. Clearly he is at the wrong house and this man is going to pummel Stiles with the massive eyebrows he seems intent to viciously furrow.

“I uh, this was the address on the license and I thought he might be lost and--is this not your cat?”

The man opens his mouth, but it’s a woman’s voice who finally answers, “Purrseus?”

Taking up as much room as he does, Stiles notices the man has to move over to accommodate the speaker. It’s--Stiles doesn’t know what it is. Or why he feels something stir at the idea of the man being too big for the small space.

At least the woman seems grateful. She awards him a smile, “Oh thank you so much for bringing him back. I’m afraid he’s a bit of a wanderer and he’s not used to the neighborhood yet.” She takes the cat and looks over at the man with a chastising tone. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse my son’s manners.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles makes sure to keep his eyes on her and not the intense hazel gaze still staring at him. “I uh, he seems like a good cat.”

Smooth.

“He was my husband’s and yes, he’s very well mannered I like to think,” the woman is directing the words ‘well mannered’ to her left at the man still refusing to break eye contact. She watches him for a second, an odd look passing before she turns back to Stiles, “I really must repay you.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Stiles probably won’t threaten either to keep the cat off his porch. Not with this man looking like he’s willing to crush every bone in Stiles’ body.  
The woman just continues to smile. “Oh no, I insist. Have you eaten yet? I just finished dinner and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

The man finally blinks and it’s to look at his mother in astonishment, “You can’t be serious.”

He says what Stiles is thinking, honestly.

But the woman is having none of it, “He brought him all the way back, Derek, now stop being rude and go set another place.”

“That’s okay, ma'am, seriously, I should be,” Stiles catches a whiff, a whiff of what smells like, “oh my god, is that bread?” Real bread. Sweet, golden brown and mouthwateringly soft. Dear god, how long has it been since he’s had bread?

Derek raises a brow like he’s insane but Stiles is willing to bet he doesn’t count carbs and doesn’t understand what having to withhold something as beautiful as bread from your diet is like. The woman nods at the question, “I made it fresh this morning. And please, call me Talia.”

“Stiles.”

The woman ushers him in and Stiles doesn’t stop her, even if he probably should.

He won’t be too long he tells himself.

( . )

He’s not sure which part is more mystifying and strange. That this ‘Stiles’ looks like something out a fairytale book, all pretty with large sparkling eyes, an upturned nose and a mouth that’s almost sinful to look at. Or that said man, with the same perfectly sculpted mouth---is destroying his food like a warrior who will never again see another day. Derek is obviously no stranger to food and a good meal, but he’s never quite seen someone eat so ravenously and like they don’t know what to do with their mouth. Stiles can’t seem to hold still during the meal and it’s--Derek doesn’t know if it’s odd or cute or what the hell it is.

Well, Stiles is definitely cute, maybe just not what he’d call a refined eater.

“Oh my god this is--” Stiles swallows. “--so good.”

“Always nice to see my food being appreciated,” His mother laughs. It seems to charm her how the younger man eats. Derek had tried to corner her and ask what she thought she was doing inviting the stranger in, but she’d simply stated his father would have wanted it.  
Then she’d winked. Which had both confused and worried the hell out of him.

And Purrseus apparently loved the man too, wrapping his long body immediately around Stiles’ feet. Which meant double points for the pale man and his ridiculously pleasing--everything.

Derek is just--very confused. He can hardly enjoy his own second plate because he’s too busy wondering at what point his mother is going to embarrass him. Talia Hale wasn’t known for having a filter and it didn’t look as if Stiles had one either.

“I have to say,” the man chomps on some more bread like he’s trying to bite through his bottom lip, “I really like the name Purrseus. Very punny.”

Talia smiles, “Oh, blame my husband for that. He always thought he was quite the comedian.”

Stiles’ wine colored eyes look over at him for some reason.

“It skipped a generation,” Derek deadpans. His dad had been known for bad jokes and puns and the poor cat had obviously suffered from one of them.

Stiles snorts at the words, sending crumbs all over his plate, “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking embarrassed.

Derek shrugs, unsure why shooting bread out his nose is any more embarrassing than eating like he has no thumbs or clue where his mouth is. In fact, it’s distracting that Stiles also just---keeps looking at him. His eyes keep wandering over to Derek and then shooting back as if unsure or possibly sheepish. In between giant swallows, the man is obviously looking. Staring even.

“So Stiles, you must live close by to have walked here with Purrseus.”

“I live a street over, actually.”

A foot hits his shin and Derek chokes on his fork. His mother looks innocent, but he knows better.

As if the woman has to remind Derek of the man sitting across from him. Stiles’ energy is almost inescapable and very hard to ignore. Derek had heard the words and he knew what his mother was scheming. He glares over at her, but Talia is focused solely on Stiles.

“I noticed you guys seem to still be moving in.”

Talia nods, “Well, I am at least. Derek lives further in the city in one of those flashy apartments, but I wanted a bigger place with more room.”

“Oh,” The word comes out flat and sounds almost disappointed. Or maybe Derek wants it to be a disappointment--even though it wouldn’t make any sense for it to be. Stiles seems to avoid eye contact for too long and Derek just wants him to stop wasting all the sauce. He certainly doesn’t notice Stiles’ long fingers or admire the trail of moles and long lashes over those deep brown eyes. Nope. Not at all.

Talia and Stiles carry on a conversation that Derek honestly doesn’t follow. He absentmindedly eats, all the while wondering if his mother had planted the idea, or if they idea planted itself.

And God, his head is hurting now.

Stiles is attractive and seems, despite acting like he’s never seen food, intelligent. He’s--Derek can’t think of the right word exactly, but he’s something. His mother likes him and the last time Talia Hale had liked any of Derek’s boyfriends or girlfriends--

Which Stiles obviously is not. Derek’s not even sure Stiles is aware of what his mother is doing. He really needs to shut his brain down on seeing the other man as anything other than a friendly neighbor. Purrseus looks up at him and Derek sighs when the cat curls further around Stiles.

“Oh my god, what time is it?”

Stiles is suddenly panicking, looking at his phone as if he can’t believe what it says. He murmurs a curse and looks almost frightened.

Derek won’t say he’s alarmed at the reaction, just surprised maybe. Stiles seems tenser than when he’d presented the cat, worried, even. “Something wrong?” he asks.

Stiles swallows, “I uh, I guess the time got away from me. I really hate to eat without helping clean up--”

Talia waves a hand, “Think nothing of it, dear.”

“Thank you. This has been really nice, and I really mean that, but I have to go.”

Talia shocks them both with a smile and declaration, “Derek will walk you home.”

“I uh--” Stiles looks between them with an obvious flush. He nervously toys with his hair, “That’s okay. It’s not that far. I uh, he doesn’t have to. Really,” He looks nervous all over again and Derek barely refrains rolling his eyes.

His mother is being way too obvious, but Derek knows from years of experience, arguing against her will be a losing battle. He uses the table to stand up, another thing he’s grown used to doing, “It’s okay, let’s go.”

Stiles’ eyes are huge, they seem to travel Derek’s whole body for some reason, “I uh--I don’t--”

Derek silences him, “She won’t stop, trust me. And it’s easier than fighting her.”

“I mean, okay I guess, I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re no bother, in fact, it would be nice if you could come over again. You’ve been a delight and I know Purrseus would love it too.”

“I’d actually really like that,” Stiles huffs, struggling to stand from his chair. The younger man seems to need even more support from the table than Derek did. Which seems odd given Stiles is at least 100 pounds lighter.

Although, the obvious bulge in his otherwise toned middle might definitely be why.

“Did you want some leftovers to take with you?”

“No!”

Derek blinks at the abrupt reply and even Talia seems caught off guard.

Stiles smiles shakily and quickly, “Sorry, I meant no thank you, I appreciate it though, honestly. It was all really delicious.”

“Okay, well don’t be a stranger okay? We’d love to have you over again.”

Stiles nods, he looks genuinely appreciative, “Thanks.”

Something about the way Stiles looks at his mother with such respect makes Derek turn his head away. He can’t, he won’t let feelings like this happen. He wants time to himself, he wants to be single and focus on his career.

Derek certainly doesn’t want Stiles getting too comfortable or bonding with his mother. Making himself a staple in this home.

It’s either the laugh in his head or the ‘too late’ cycling around on repeat that let Derek know, he’s an idiot.

( . )

The walk back seems twice as long and Stiles swears, he’s gained at least twenty pounds. He moans and clutches at his stomach, wondering how he’s going to explain to his boyfriend what he’s been doing for three hours. And the massive food baby--it wasn’t as if Nick could miss it. His feet feel like lead and Stiles just feels--heavy, sleepy--like he wants a twenty-hour nap.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel sick.”

Derek is--well he’s not even winded at all. Something Stiles will admit surprises him. “How are you walking so fast?”

The man smirks, “I get that a lot.” Stiles raises a brow and the man responds, “People assume I can’t run or even walk, or that I even like to.”

Oh, but walk Derek does. Stiles can’t even deny the man is built solid with a thick middle that has both a bounce and jiggle to it. His pants seem so tight it’s a wonder they stay on at all. And even still, most of the weight is in his thighs, legs and an ass that honestly refuses to quit. It’s been hard not to openly stare. All evening, actually. Stiles knows his lips are almost raw at this point. He’s been biting and chewing and licking for hours---all while reminding himself he has a boyfriend.

A very in shape boyfriend he finds very sexy. Because Stiles likes muscles and toned abs, not thighs that rubbed together and a chest much closer to moobs than pecks.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Derek hums as if he doesn’t believe him.

Stiles clarifies, “I just meant I don’t know how it’s not weighing you down. I swear I feel like I have an anvil in me.”

Derek snorts as if the answer is obvious. Stiles doesn’t want to say it out loud for fear of being rude, but the unspoken words, ‘more padding’ still fill the air. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”  
That makes Stiles smile, “You’re not really as deadly as you look, are you? I’ll bet deep inside you're just a big old teddy bear.”

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” Derek doesn’t quite smile, but it’s close.

“Your mom’s a pretty great lady.”

“She’s--” Derek’s eyes fall and he watches his feet as he walks. “She trying her best.”

“I miss my mom,” Stiles hadn’t meant for it to come out, but he doesn’t regret the words either. He means them, truly. “I miss her a fucking lot, actually.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Brain tumor when I was ten, and it still fucking hurts every goddamn day,” Stiles bites his lip. “Not to be pushy, but your dad--”

“Pancreatic cancer. Six months ago.”

Stiles winces, “Shit, sorry man.”

Derek nods but otherwise doesn’t respond. He seems lost in his thoughts and Stiles decides to give him some quiet. It’s not so bad really. Comfortable silence.

“This is me,” Stiles stops them before the driveway, just before the low hedge where Nick might be able to look out and see them. “I can take it the rest of the way.”

Derek’s brows question the odd place to stop, but he doesn’t push anything. Stiles is glad of that. He can’t imagine what Nick might say or do if he saw the two of them walking together. It’s better that it just doesn’t happen

“Thank you, Derek,” Stiles means it genuinely. “And thank your mom again too.”

Derek nods. Stiles takes a moment to memorize what he can before he waves and heads up the driveway. Hands in his pockets he really hopes it’s not the last time he sees Derek or his mom.

When he opens the door to Nick’s thunderous face, however, his heart sinks. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. I’m up in the air right now.


End file.
